Death Becomes You
by Sairalinde Ancalime
Summary: I can't control my destiny, I trust my soul, my only goal is to be. There's only now, there's only here. Give in to love or live in fear.' When death is all you have known, life can be hard to achieve, especially for people like Senka. Please Review.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:- I do not own any of the characters, situations or ideas pertaining to the 2004 King Arthur motion picture or the Arthurian Legends which may at some point have input and reference to the future plot of this story. This fan fiction is solely for the purpose of entertainment for both myself and others and I do not have any intention to make money from it; neither is it my intention to offend any one connected in any way to the film. The original characters and plot line come from my mind alone and therefore any similarities with other fictional works or otherwise (e.g. Names of real people, descriptions, locations etc.) are purely coincidental and are not meant to cause harm. Thank you.

This work of fan fiction has been rated **M** initially as a caution for possible death, violence, sexual situations (including rape), bad language and self harm.** Reader's discretion advised**. **Please review,** assistance in the form of constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated and I don't mind flames as long as the flamer gives sound point and judgement for their complaint. I am happy to answer and questions or queries readers may have. I think it is important that it is noted that although I have tried to keep this story as historically accurate as I could there are areas which are not (and I am aware about), but these inaccuracies were vital for the plot line; because of this I have tried to explain them without taking away from the story. _Death Becomes You_ takes place after the defeat of the Saxons at Badon Hill, Arthur has now been King for about a year and also those knights who died in the film are alive. Sorry if this annoys anyone but it is also slightly necessary for them to be around. I hope you enjoy.

By the way, the quote in the summary is from RENT- I thought it apt.

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**Death Becomes You**

By Sairalinde Ancalime

Prologue

Death. It has been my waking thoughts and my sleeping dreams for almost ten years now. The blood, the stench, the screams, the rotting flesh, the heat of a blade as it skewers my enemy. Each moment has been inked into my mind for eternity, so much so I could describe to you every single man I killed, the look on his face, the colour of his eyes- all of it.

It is wrong, my owner always told me to forget it all, to move on- look forward. But it is the one thing I cannot do. I did not ask for this, none of this. I have a mind for detail, in every thing I do, its always the little things, the obscure or flippant things that grab my eye, that sear themselves into my soul. That is why I cannot forget, I want to, Gods I do but I can't, Fate won't let me and I won't let myself.

I never fully understood what my mother meant when she said that your life can be turned on it's head in just one day, until it finally happened. I was fourteen, young and foolish, my head filled with dreams of marriage to a fine man and the raising of as many children as I could bear.

The Romans always travelled through my village, stopping on its outskirts to allow the Sarmatian boys to rest the night. We were used to it, watching them eat and sleep just yards from our very homes. I felt for them, I really did but I was always glad it was them and not me being taken from the ones I loved. I never envied them, not once. Sometimes they did not make it, it did not shock us to see little boys' bodies being dumped in unmarked graves; we would keep our distance but say a little prayer to the Gods- they may not have been of our land but they were buried in it none the less. As quickly as they came, they were gone. Split up and sent across the Empire to do their duty as their forefathers had pledged. I never thought life came with a price, but it does, they could tell you that- I could tell you that.

But they had stopped riding through my little world when I was eleven summers. Whispers spread of Hun uprisings and no more did we see the Sarmatians. The Romans passed through on occasion and it was on one of these that my life changed dramatically- for the good or bad I still cannot say. I was fetching eggs, there were seven of them; all large, slightly rounded and brown. I never got to taste them.

The party was standing in the square, all mounted apart from two inexperienced looking soldiers who fidgeted with their cloaks and moved back and forth from foot to foot. My father was talking to whom I could only presume was their Commander. He was angry, I always knew when my father was angry no matter how far away I was from him. The closer I got the more I could see their conversation was heated, the Commander seemed to remain rather stoic in his expression but my father was flushed, his gestures erratic. I did not continue towards them, instead I turned down a side alley towards our home, to where my mother and brother waited for me to return with the eggs.

My mother was crying when I entered, I had never seen her cry before, not in all my years. My brother did not look much better, his face was ashen, his eyes wide with fear as he tried to comfort my mother. If I had known what was wrong I would have fled, it would have been the only rational thing to do; but I did not know and did not run. She looked up at me from her position next to the hearth, for once her face unreadable and she looked old, truly old. My mother had always been so beautiful, youthful. To look at her you would think her royalty of some kind, so much elegance within one face. I am not like my mother, and for that I must thank the Gods, for if I was I fear my life would have turned out worse than it did.

Her eyes looked passed me and it was then that I noticed the shadow which blotted out the light from the door behind me. Slowly I turned to see my father looming as only he could, tall and strong with an air of cruelty around him. Not that he was a cruel, well he wasn't usually. Though on occasion his temper did best him and he could terrify even the bravest of men from our village and beyond. He studied me for a moment before taking the basket of eggs from my hands and turning me to face my mother.

"Get her ready." He ordered, no emotion in his voice at all. I wondered what he meant, as far as I knew nothing special was supposed to be happening that day.

Mother took me by the hand and led me into the back room. It was cold in there, my skin pimpled as she helped me undress, I did nothing to stop her I do not know why but it was as if my mind was frozen like the water troughs outside. Silently she handed me a pair of my brother's breeches and boots, I put them on as she turned and prepared a length of linen. My fingers fumbled with the laces but I soon had them done up, mother sighed and shook her head. She bid me raise my arms which I did obediently as she began to wrap the linen around my chest, binding down my barely developing breasts. It hurt at first, the tightness of the material pinched and pressed against the delicate skin but I said nothing of the discomfort; mother did not seem to be in the best of moods that day. I slipped on the dark green shirt and jerkin that were shoved into my grasp, subconsciously stepping back when I saw mother hold up a pair of shears. My hair had always been my pride and joy, long luscious locks almost white in colour; everyone I had ever encountered had always fawned over how lovely it was. And within a breath my mother cut it all off, leaving me with hair so short you would think me a boy.

It was then that I grasped what was happening, they were turning me into a boy, saving my brother from an unknown fate. In his place I was sacrificed, after all it did make sense. I was merely a girl, my brother was the one with a useful future, I was in the way and nothing more. Mother hurried me back into the main room, my father nodded his approval and walked back out of our home. My brother, a full one year older than me looked at me sadly; he knew what was happening- father had told him. He stepped up to me, handing me a leather roll containing all I would need, I swallowed the sob which threatened to reveal itself. It wasn't fair, I was but a child, a little girl with hopes and dreams being sent off as a martyr in her brother's place. Was it right? No, not at all but what could be done? It was what my parents wished and I was a good child, I would do as they said.

I rode away that day and never once looked back; I can still remember the taste of the salty tears that ran down my cheeks and coated my dry lips. That day I headed to Rome, to a new world, a new life where I was no longer little Senka but Radovan, the brave son of a Pannonian blacksmith.

I never did find out why I was taken by the Romans, it never came up in conversation and I was wary to ask. So instead I lived as they wished it and became what I am today, the very thing I will never escape. I have seen the length and breadth of the Empire- Thracia, Macedonia, Dalmatia, Syria, Arabia, Aegyptus, Mauritania, Carthage, Lusitania, Baetica; so many places, so many climates and not once can I say that I enjoyed my travels. No matter what they say, Rome is not great, it is not free of sin and it is not civilised. For beyond that image shown to the world is something darker, something barbaric in its need for more; a world I have seen because I lived it. I _was_ it. They wanted it and I gave them release. They wanted death, they wanted blood, they wanted sacrifice and I gave it all to them. In the amphitheatre I was omnipotent, they worshipped me, feared me and lusted after me. But I was just a helpless pawn in their little games, once I left the protection of that ring of death I was nothing. They wanted blood, they wanted power- I could do nothing but yield. I was seventeen summers when I entered the arena, no one expected I would reach the twenty-five that I did. For eight years, five more than the old law dictated, I entertained the citizens of the Empire, I was taken where I was required, where the coins were best and flowed freely. None seemed to care the bloodsports had been banned nearly a century before, not even the authorities who were meant to uphold the decrees of Rome. Wherever we went a blind eye was turned to our presence, we appeared, did what we came to do and then left like ghosts. Forgotten like dust in the wind. Only the fortune they made mattered.

I remember the day I was granted my freedom, my owner Ajax looked upon me with sorrow and guilt, emotions stemming from his regret that he was losing a fine profit maker. And all I felt was fear- what would become of me now?

It was a question I was reluctant to answer but knew I must. I thought about returning home, yet I never did. My heart begged me to run, so I listened; I made my way back across the Roman Empire travelling until I could no more. Tirelessly I kept on going, until there was no more Empire to cross- until I had reached Britain.


	2. Chapter 1: The Start

Thank you to everyone who reviewed- sorry if I didn't reply to you but with the server thingy doing what it did I couldn't remember who I had messaged and who I hadn't and I wasn't sure if you'd get it or not. Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Tristan's Lady Meg, for all her help so far!

_Death Becomes You_ takes place after the defeat of the Saxons at Badon Hill, Arthur has now been King for about a year and also those knights who died in the film are alive.

Important A/N: I decided that I am going to use Vindolanda as the fort Arthur was stationed at and then ruled Britain from until the building of Camelot was completed. I feel that this fortress is ideal for my needs as well as being the one that his fort in the movie was based off of.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, situations or ideas pertaining to the 2004 King Arthur motion picture or the Arthurian Legends which may at some point have input and reference to the future plot of this story. This fan fiction is solely for the purpose of entertainment for both myself and others and I do not have any intention to make money from it; neither is it my intention to offend any one connected in any way to the film. The original characters and plot line come from my mind alone and therefore any similarities with other fictional works or otherwise (e.g. Names of real people, descriptions, locations etc.) are purely coincidental and are not meant to cause harm.

**This chapter contains rape, if you are uncomfortable with reading such material please skip the section highlighted by the **&&&&&&&&**. This symbol comes before and after the section so you can skip it if you want to.**

Please Review.

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Chapter One- The Start

I hummed to myself a tune I had heard a mother singing to her child. The words were foreign to me but the tune was simple and once memorised, hard to remove from the mind. I walked absently to the tavern, my latest place of employment. It wasn't exactly what I was used to but the work was easy enough to learn and the women I worked with were pleasant enough to exchange words with. Do not ask me how or why I ended up so far north in Britain, it was a fluke if anything and at that time I had yet to decide what I was going to do; so when I was offered a place on a caravan heading for Vindolanda, a fort along Hadrian's Wall, I accepted somewhat spontaneously and let things happen as they came.

Vindolanda turned out to be a rather good choice in the end. The people were friendly and inviting, I immediately found somewhere to stay and settled in within days. It took me several attempts to find a suitable employment position; my lack of sewing or healing skills left me with few choices. It wasn't as if I could go up to Arthur and ask him to let me join his knights, if the man didn't laugh me down he would have thought me mad. And I had left that part of my life behind when I crossed the channel to Britain- no more killing, no more blood would be spilt by my hand, of that I was sure.

I hopped over the drainage ditch that lined one side of the tavern's courtyard, only to see Vanora already cleaning up tables.

"Do you ever stop?" I asked her. The red head turned her face up in my direction but did not stop scrubbing. She smiled.

"Yeah, just not when anyone is around to spy on me. Now are you early or am I running behind?"

"I'm early, thought I should be helpful for once and give you a hand." Vanora chuckled at my response, shaking her head as she stood up straight and walked towards the bar holding several ale mugs.

"Well if you want to be useful, grab the rest of those mugs." She called over her shoulder. I smiled and picked them up, following her.

I will admit I had never had a friend before Vanora, in the business I had been in it never paid to get attached to the people you would end up killing. But it doesn't mean that I told her everything, Vanora knew little of my past, in fact basically nothing; instead I always turned the conversation towards her husband Bors and the motley troop of children they had brought into the world. It always worked, give a woman a chance to moan and she will; Vanora proved to be no exception. I did get the feeling though she was beginning to catch onto my little ploy, but so far so good- she was yet to not co-operate.

I passed her the used mugs as she washed them out and left them to dry. The day was hotter than I had been used to in a while. When I had arrived in Britain it had been mid winter, cold enough already, but the further north I went I found the temperature to drop even more. Ever since I had been taken from Pannonia I had never been in a climate that could become so cold; it was a shock to my system. But now it was early summer and the days had begun to heat up considerably, something I had not expected from a country where I was told it would either rain or fog everyday. But I preferred it, I was used to the heat from my years in the southern provinces and I liked the feel of the sun on my back.

We worked steadily all afternoon, cleaning, tidying, preparing food and the ale supplies for the evening; barely having time to grab a quick meal before the tavern patrons began to arrive for an evening's socialising. Bors was one of the first as usual, though sometimes it was hard to tell whether he came so quickly just for the ale, or because it meant he would be around Vanora longer. That was something that always perplexed me; the couple had eleven children and yet during the few months since my arrival I had seen very little of them. Vanora told me that her mother watched them most days, just as Bors did when she nagged him into it. From the moment I met Vanora I respected her in a way I respected no one else; she was bossy, fiery, short tempered and yet so loving and generous. She was about the same age as I but so much more of a woman than I could ever be; and if I am honest I envied her completely.

I did not notice the other knights enter; we were missing two girls, the Gods only knew why and so the rest of us had to work twice as hard to make up for it. The tavern was far from empty, even after Rome had withdrawn her army nine months before there was still enough people in the area to keep us in work. In fact after the Romans had left, more people had travelled to Vindolanda, seeking to create a new life for themselves; just like I had. That was the effect Arthur had on people, for one so young he had a wise head on his shoulders, and a good heart to match it. Life was fair under his rule, he protected us and we loyally followed him.

I wove my way through the tables and crowds, concentrating hard on my work and swatting away stray hands that came in my direction. It was all meant in good nature, once or twice I had been offered a coin for my "services" and some patrons went too far whilst drunk on the ale but it only ever took a quick vocal admonishment to put them in their place. None knew of my past but I have always believed that the knowledge of my friendship with Vanora and her connection to the knights was enough to prevent any man from becoming too insistent. As I walked passed the knights table I felt a hand reach out and grab me by the waist; I did not fight as I was pulled onto the lap of a merry Lancelot- I did not know him well but knew of his reputation, that was enough for me.

"Good evening beautiful angel, I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before this night." He smiled lopsidedly and pulled me closer to his chest.

"No you have not, and if I had it my way you wouldn't." I replied cheerfully, Lancelot scowled whilst his companions laughed- well all but the quiet one Tristan.

"Why not? A beautiful maiden like you and a handsome Knight like me, we could make wondrous music together. Does the thought not thrill you?" I could see the playful glint in his eye, he certainly enjoyed this game.

I sat up straight, looked him in the eye, smiled and shook my head replying simply; "No."

Lancelot arched a brow, I could hear his friends snickering in the background.

"No? That is a word I do not hear very often."

"My point entirely." I stated.

"Oh? So the lady likes the less experienced, Galahad, you may be in with a chance here." Galahad blushed involuntarily at Lancelot's words, but before he could rebuke his friend's comment I interrupted.

"Well from what I have heard Sir Galahad here has a...mouth watering talent that certainly makes up for experience, mayhap when my shift is over I will ask him to escort me to my chambers; that is if one of the other girls does not get there before me."

Lancelot choked on his ale and I tried my best to restrain my laughter as he sat with his mouth slightly agape. Obviously he was not used to being rejected for the youngest knight of them all.

"Close your mouth Sir Lancelot, if the wind changes you will stay like that." His hands went slack around my waist, giving me room to slide off his lap and pick up the jug of wine I had been carrying previously. I winked at Galahad who smiled smugly and was being clapped on the back by Gawain before getting back to work.

I watched Galahad and Gawain throw knives later on in the evening, their aim poor from the amount of ale they had imbibed. It made me chuckle, they were dismal and yet would not give up in their need to best each other. By now the scout Tristan would have shown them up by hitting one of their knives dead centre in it's hilt, but not this night for some peculiar reason. From what Vanora told me the three of them had been at it for years and would more than likely continue to until they were no longer able to even lift a knife. As I said about Lancelot, I did not know the knights very well, to me they were just patrons of the tavern who I enjoyed watching and sometimes sharing the odd bantering session with. Bors was the only one I could claim acquaintance with and that was because of Vanora and nothing else, I doubt he would even recognise my presence if it wasn't for her. Not that I cared overly much, I had my job, my room in the servants wing that once again, Vanora helped me acquire and a small circle of friends to talk with when I felt like it. Life hadn't been better, ever, I soon realised and because of that it took a lot to wipe the smile from my face.

I blame myself entirely for the events which followed my musings, if I had been paying attention then I wouldn't have wandered over into the back corner collecting up mugs, the one place Vanora told me to avoid seeing as I wasn't one of the more experienced serving girls; in particular those who "sold their wears".

Wiping my hands on the cloth tucked into my waistband, I leant over a table to pick up several abandoned flagons, my free hand bracing my weight on the table. Just as my fingers touched the rim of the second mug I felt a light stroking sensation work its way from the base of my wrist up the inside of my forearm, the brushing movement turning into lazy circles. My breath halted in my throat, and I turned my head slowly, eyes wide as a realised what was happening. The index finger playing with the bare skin of my arm didn't stop even as I looked up into the eyes of my approacher. The dark brown orbs appraised me with unveiled lust as his lips curled into a cold smile.

"And how much would you be pretty lady?" He asked, his voice lightly accented.

"I am sorry sir but I do not offer such services." I answered weakly.

"Oh I am sure that can be fixed, name your price and I'll pay it, more if you're good."

"Sir-"

"Duilius, my name is Duilius." He whispered, bringing my hand up to his mouth to kiss it harshly.

"Duilius, I am not a whore. If you require the services of one then I am sure Gail or Marcella can fulfil your needs."

"If I wanted spoiled goods then I am sure they could, but I do not. They do not enchant me as you do, such an exotic little creature you are; from where do you hail? The Northlands?" His eyes glinted in the low light, I could smell the ale on his breath as he ran the very same index finger which had trailed my arm along my jawline. Duilius wasn't a bad looking man; dark and noble features, he must have been nearly a head and a half taller than me (not hard seeing as I'm rather petite and lack stature somewhat) and very, very Roman in appearance. He had to be nearing his fortieth year, the shallow lines around his eyes and mouth giving away his age despite his otherwise youthful visage.

"Please sir, I have work to do." I ignored his question and tried to leave only to find myself being spun around and backed against a wall, Duilius holding my upper arms in a vice like grip.

"I'm not finished with you yet!" He hissed viciously. I struggled in his grasp, causing him to tighten his hold and pin me in place with his hips, his erection digging into my abdomen. It was then that I noted the gravity of the situation, he was obviously a man who got what he wanted no matter the cost and I had the feeling my free will was going to be the cost this time. A hand moved up to cover my mouth as Duilius bent down to suck on my collarbone, his teeth bashing against the skin as his tongue left a trail of saliva in its wake. I continued to struggle lamely, unable to push him off or release his hand from over my mouth enough to call out and get help. No one could see us in the darkness of the corner he had chosen for his deeds, and the noise of the rowdy patrons meant unless I screamed like a banshee few would here my plea. Panic set in, the fear which had surfaced when he first touched me had now escalated beyond anything I had felt in a long time. My sobs were muffled by his large, calloused hand, a hand which had obviously held a sword for many years. My tears ran down my cheeks until they connected with his own skin and soaked into him. Memories began to flood back to me, things I remembered from years before, things I would do anything to forget.

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_His weight was beyond anything I had ever felt, I could feel the air being crushed from my lungs as I beat my hands against his shoulders, pleading with him to stop and leave me be. Cursing, he raised off of me, pulling at his belt and using it to tie my hands above my head making me even more vulnerable than I had been before. I felt the cool air hit the skin of my breasts and stomach as he ripped my dress in two, the steel of his blade tickling my never-before-touched flesh._

_Soon he was kissing me again, his tongue forcing its way inside my lips, darting up to tickle the roof of my mouth. He stopped, his mouth still attached to mine as he smiled and laughed, moving down to place open mouthed kisses on my neck all the way to my breasts. His hands disappeared from their tight grip on my hips and I could tell from the sigh of relief that escaped him, he had undone the laces of his breeches, his hands then moving to separate my thighs which I tried desperately to keep together. My scream of agony was met with a harsh grunt as Ajax forced his way inside of me, ripping my maidenhead from my body and my hope from my mind._

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My eyes snapped open, a new sense of survival washed over me. Duilius, still distracted by the soft skin of my neck didn't anticipate the knee I sent into his groin. The Roman doubled over slightly, giving me ample space and opportunity to slam my hands against his torso sending him backwards into a table. I turned to run when I heard his voice:

"You bitch!"

My head suddenly snapped back as Duilius took a handful of my hair and threw me over a table where I rolled across the floor and thudded against the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with fear, tears streaming silently down my face as he lunged for me again only to be tackled to the ground by a man I could not recognise in the poor light. I heard the thumping of fists against skin, the mewls of an injured man as he was pummelled over and over and the grunting of his attacker as he kept up the beatings without hesitation.

"Senka!" I heard Vanora cry out and was soon swept up in the arms of my friend. She held me quietly for a moment and as she did I heard the sounds of Duilius being hit decrease until there was nothing. I wondered who it was that delivered Duilius his beating but did not enquire into it. Vanora pulled away far enough to see my face, she was pale and terrified.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" She asked me, looking down at my neck. I nodded mutely, pushing myself up onto my feet. Vanora grabbed my arm as I swayed gently once I was on my feet. It was then that I noticed all the knights standing around us, each looking highly concerned from what I could tell. Gawain stepped forward, holding me gently and leading me to a chair in the light, no one spoke. I hadn't noticed Galahad run off to find Arthur. I sighed rubbing a hand over my eyes, removing the tears which were left behind. A mug of ale was put in front of me which I picked up with a shaky hand and drank from quickly. A hand rested on my shoulder, I stopped and looked up to find Lancelot, his face grave.

"Don't drink too fast." He told me.

I brought the mug back to my lips but this time sipped slowly. I remembered Duilius and turned to look back at the corner. Tristan was standing over his unconscious body like a guard dog, but I could not tell what condition the Roman was in as Dagonet took a step to his right and blocked my vision. I lowered my eyes and returned to sipping my ale in silence.

"Senka sweetheart, do you need to see the healer?" Vanora asked me.

"No, no I'm...fine."

"I think it is wise she went just in case." Dagonet spoke up softly.

"No. I don't want to." I was adamant, if I went to see the healer then it was more than likely he would discover the scars I spent eight years collecting; I didn't want to see them myself so like hell I wanted him to.

"Alright, alright." Vanora soothed, no doubt she could hear the anxiety in my voice.

"Arthur." Lancelot said firmly, I saw the King himself jogging across the tavern. No doubt Lancelot had beckoned him to where we were.

"What has happened?" He seemed slightly out of breath, no doubt he had run when Galahad had fetched him. The young knight himself was not far behind Arthur.

"Senka was attacked by that Roman bastard over there." Vanora pointed to where Duilius laid out cold, behind where Dagonet still stood.

"You all saw this?" He questioned. The knights and Vanora answered straight away in the affirmative.

"Bors, Dagonet, take him to the cells. We'll deal with him in the morning." He crouched down in front of me, sad green eyes staring into my own grey-blue ones.

"My lady, do you need to see a healer? I can have my personal one brought immediately."

"No I am fine thank you, just shaken is all." I answered so quietly I wondered if he could hear me. He seemed to as he nodded and rose to stand.

"If there is anything you require, please just ask and I will have it to you as quickly as I can." I smiled weakly.

"Thank you, Your Highness." He smiled gently in reply and moved away to speak with Lancelot. I noticed Dagonet and Bors try to discreetly leave the tavern dragging the body of Duilius. I finished my ale and stood, Vanora was at my side in a breath.

"Do you want anything Senka?"

"No, I think I need some fresh air. If it's alright with you I'll go home after that."

"Of course of course. Why don't I come with you, or Gawain if you'd prefer." I shook my head.

"I want to be alone Vanora, I'll be fine I promise. I just want to be alone." Reluctantly she agreed, embracing me once more before I managed to get away seemingly unnoticed by everyone but her.

The wall was a rather unoriginal place to find solace, I noticed over the months I had been there, that most of the fort went there to think and seek peace. For me it was the sight of all that lay on the other side, the miles upon miles of grassland and forests. The freedom of it all. I clutched at the stonework of the rampart, my eyes staring unblinking out at the evening twilight as my mind analysed and sorted all that had happened just moments before. It was ironic really. I had spent eight years killing people with ease for sport albeit with regret also; yet one man, one rapist I couldn't handle, couldn't fight off. If the situation hadn't been so fresh I think I would have laughed. In one fell swoop eight years worth of pain and fear had resurfaced all because I was foolish enough to go somewhere Vanora had warned me against.

The deep breath I had taken I exhaled shakily, closing my eyes I leant forward and rested my forehead against the cold wall.

"You shouldn't be here." I jumped and turned to find Tristan standing several feet away. I clutched at my heart.

"Tristan! You scared me!"

He clasped his hands behind his back and walked over to me. "My apologies."

I smiled weakly and went back to gazing out over the wall, one eye fixed on the scout. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean to." My hands were unsteady even though they were laid on the stone. I hoped he didn't see.

"How do you fare?" He asked, I was in a state of surprise, the scout had spoken a grand total of three words before that night to me- Thank you, yes, and no.

"Well. He didn't hurt me. I'm just a bit jumpy."

He nodded his head and looked out in the same direction I had. We stood in a strangely comfortable silence almost ignoring each other for a good while. I say almost ignoring each other because I could feel Tristan's eyes staring at me every few moments and I of course, took the opportunity to look at him from the corner of my own eye when I could. Out of all the knights, I would never have thought Sir Tristan would be the one to come after me. Unless of course Vanora threatened him into it. I was glad though, the last thing I wanted was to talk or share my feelings or be comforted as I wept. I wouldn't cry, I refused to cry because that would mean I was weak, weaker than I had been for a long time and I had once vowed never to be like that again. For over eight years my life had been so easy, by blocking out my own pain and fear and sorrow, by numbing my heart and mind I could get through each day as it happened without losing any more of my sanity. They say denial is not a healthy emotion, but if it keeps you alive as it did me, I can't see what is so wrong with it. Of course it never once erased the memories of my deeds but it was enough to prevent my turning into a murderous beast and for that I am thankful.

As the night time winds picked up, my hair which I had worn loose that day was swept into my vision obstructing my moonlit view of the land below. Cocking my head so I could brush the pale strands out of the way, I was more than positive I saw Tristan snap his head away from my direction, returning to look at something important off on the horizon. I frowned, I had always thought him strange; certainly a grouch if nothing else. Far too reticent for his own good, Tristan never really seemed to interact as the other knights did; joining them only if it suited him and his mood and usually besting them at whatever it was they were doing. He never talked, I had never seen him smile or laugh or crack a joke the entire three months I had been there. He never truly started conversations or spoke more than was necessary. I only ever saw him three or four times a week and always in the tavern when I was working, many said he was like a ghost due to his habits of riding off before dawn and returning perhaps days later sometimes; stalking around in the dark and hiding in corners. Many of the women and children were afraid of him and even some of the men and after all the rumours they eagerly spread about him no wonder. They called him an animal, a murderer, dangerous, wild, crazed. I doubted he was half of those things but I didn't exactly expect or want to spend any time around him, those ever watchful eyes could cause problems for me and the last thing I wanted was my past dragged around Vindolanda; it was shameful enough as it was.

Feeling the sudden need to leave, to return to my room away from Tristan I turned towards him, brushing pieces of my hair from my mouth.

"I think it is time I retired for the night. Good night Sir." I left, half way down the steps when I realised he was following me. As I reached the bottom I turned to face him expectantly.

"It is not safe, I shall escort you." He muttered. The stony expression on his face was enough to tell me not to argue. I nodded passively and walked on, Tristan was crowding me slightly as he let me guide the way. As we walked passed the tavern I saw Vanora look our way and smile before getting back to work. I decided I'd have words with that woman before the week was out, I knew Vanora was behind it there was no doubt.

The rest of the journey back to my quarters was just as silent as the first part, neither Tristan nor myself made any effort to converse which I think suited us both. Upon reaching my room I halted and looked back at him.

"Thank you," I said quietly, to which I noticed he inclined his head ever so subtly in acceptance.

Opening the door, I flashed him a small smile and stepped inside as he began to walk off; making sure I locked it securely behind me. I leant against the door and sighed, trying to clear my head so I could sleep without any dreams. It was then that my eyes were drawn to my bed, or in particularly _under_ my bed. I walked over to my window and closed the shutters, bolting them and lighting several candles and sconces. Getting down on my hands and knees I reached into the darkness feeling for the cloth wrapped items I stored under there. My hand came in contact with what I was looking for just as I knew it would. I pulled them out one at a time, laying them on the bed and unwrapping the yards of burgundy linen which covered them one at a time.

The blade of the Roman Calvary sword glinted in the firelight as I turned it over in my hands. The bone and wood hilt was well worn and had molded to fit my own hand. This was the sword I had killed with, entertained with, one of the last memories of those torturous years in which I belonged to Ajax. I knew I would keep it until the day I died, more than likely never telling anyone why I had it or what it's purpose had been; it was a reminder of all I had done and strangely I never wanted to be parted with it. But it was best to forget what I could, and so I laid it back down on the cot wrapping it to protect it from the damp to stop the blade from rusting. I would not lay eyes on that blade unless it was truly necessary that I did, no good would come of it otherwise.

It was only once I had put the sword back that my gaze fell to the other weapon upon my coarse sheets and furs. The wooden sword that laid before me so idly had been my escape and the beginning of my new test; trying to live. The day I received the Rudius I had wept openly, I was no longer a killer, I could move on and start again. The Rudius was my symbol of peace and freedom and it broke my heart to even look at it. I swivelled in my position and leant against the wooden structure of my cot, clutching the Rudius tightly to my breasts as I stared into the dancing flames of the fire burning in the fireplace. The images of those I had killed swirled in my mind as I sat there all night long replaying my life over and over in my head and I realised I would never be free and I would never be at peace.


	3. Chapter 2: War and Denial

Thank you to everyone who reviewed- sorry if I didn't reply to you but with the server thingy doing what it did I couldn't remember who I had messaged and who I hadn't and I wasn't sure if you'd get it or not. I also want to apologise for the lateness of this chapter, it is quite a long one and took a while to write. Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Tristan's Lady Meg, for all her help so far! 

_Death Becomes You_ takes place after the defeat of the Saxons at Badon Hill, Arthur has now been King for about a year and also those knights who died in the film are alive.

Important A/N: I decided that I am going to use Vindolanda as the fort Arthur was stationed at and then ruled Britain from until the building of Camelot was completed. I feel that this fortress is ideal for my needs as well as being the one that his fort in the movie was based off of.

This chapter contains a flashback that includes minor vocal and physical abuse, nothing too distressing or graphic, but it is there all the same. Feel free to skip the section marked out by the &&&&&&.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, situations or ideas pertaining to the 2004 King Arthur motion picture or the Arthurian Legends which may at some point have input and reference to the future plot of this story. This fan fiction is solely for the purpose of entertainment for both myself and others and I do not have any intention to make money from it; neither is it my intention to offend any one connected in any way to the film. The original characters and plot line come from my mind alone and therefore any similarities with other fictional works or otherwise (e.g. Names of real people, descriptions, locations etc.) are purely coincidental and are not meant to cause harm.

Please Review.

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Chapter Two- War and Denial

I had been laying there for hours staring apathetically up at the ceiling above me. The sun had risen and set three times since I had locked myself in my room after Tristan had escorted me back. Vanora had brought me food which I ate dutifully, leaving the plates by the door. At first she had been very panicked by my behaviour, threatening to have Bors break down the door if I did not open it. I let her in and explained my need to be alone and in peace to allow my mind and body to heal, to be honest I don't think she understood half of what I had said but my adamant promise that I would cause no harm to myself relieved her and she supported me by doing as I asked. I felt that solitary confinement in my quarters would help me more than pitiful looks and being clucked over like a new born babe, it gave me time to heal my wounds and rebuild my defences; for a day after the incident my mind had been all over the place and whenever I slipped into unconsciousness, horrifically graphic and disturbing nightmares plagued me.

On the second day I took to meditating as I had when in service. Whilst in Aegyptus I met a man, another gladiator who was of the lands to the east. He taught me that meditating would relax my mind and free me all of thoughts thus creating a state of serenity. I had mocked it at first and remember giggling all the way through my first attempt. But soon, once I had grasped its teachings and benefits I found I could not be without it. It developed my mind considerably, bringing me to a level of peace that balanced out the tumultuous emotions that warred in my head and quietened my soul. I still suffered from regret and shame but it pushed everything to the back of my mind and allowed me to go on and survive each day. I was told more than once by other men who knew of meditation that what I was doing was wrong, I was using a religious practice to create a deeper form of denial which would one day destroy me; but I didn't care, it was a quick fix to my heartache and guilt and I used it ever since.

It was the early hours of the fourth morning, I could hear the fort outside my window begin to stir. The sun was in the final motions of rising above the horizon and I knew it was time to return to the world around me. I was at peace with what had happened and I could no longer dwell on the actions of my past. Sighing, I sat up, my covers wound around my waist. Untangling myself lackadaisically, I winced as my feet touched the cold stone floor before hobbling over to the wash bowl and drenching my face in the equally cold water. Grabbing my comb, I teased out the knots and tangles in my hair, which were surprisingly few in number. As I looked down at the ends of my hair, I noticed that my shift was in need of a good wash. I decided to go down to the river before I started work in the noon hour and do it then; it had been so long since I had last gone down there and I happily anticipated paddling in the water and having a nice rest in the long grass. I dressed quickly in the nearest clean garments I could find, not caring overly much for the state of my appearance.

When I had moved into the room, Vanora made sure there was a full length looking glass for my use, and currently it sat in the corner unused and covered with an old tapestry. I have always hated looking at my reflection, something that has become stronger as the years have passed. All I could ever see in them was everything wrong about me, my pain, my regret and my shame. I don't think I'll ever understand how some women can spend all day staring at themselves, what a bizarre past time. But that day, something deep inside of me yearned to stare in the glass and so with timid steps, I made my way to the object and pulled off the tapestry, letting it slump on the floor, I began coughing as the dust from it assaulted my throat. My hands traced along my skin, highlighting the features I had not seen in a long time. I had begun to lose muscle since I left my service, instead I was beginning to fill out and look more womanly than the scrawny warrior I had been before. My pale hair which had stopped at my shoulder blades the last time I saw it, now brushed my lower back but was still as thin, lank and straight as it always had been. My skin continued to hold the golden glow hours in the glaring sun of the southern provinces had created, but to my eyes I could see and easily point out the silver streaks which signified old scars adorning the flesh. My hand stopped when it reached the fading yellow bruise on my collarbone inflicted by Duilius. It was the only one I had received from that night, brought on by his harsh mouth and if I concentrated I knew I would be able to feel still there. The mark was almost gone now, the only visible sign that anything had happened in the first place. I pulled up the already quite high neckline of the under-dress hoping to cover the bruise and prevent unwanted eyes from seeing it. Awkwardly I patted down my dress and reached for my tan boots, putting them on and heading for the door.

The corridor was empty which I half expected seeing how early it was, those who needed to had risen and disappeared off to see to their duties, and those who hadn't would sleep for several more hours. I headed for the tavern knowing Vanora would go there first before bringing me something to eat as she had so kindly done for the past few days. With any luck there would be some cleaning work to do and I could persuade Vanora into letting me do it. I wasn't supposed to start work for quite a few hours but the last thing I wanted was to sit around doing nothing as I would be otherwise. Stepping out of the servant's wing, I turned down towards the center of the fort where the tavern stood not far from the stables and Arthur's accommodation. The sun cast long shadows across the dirt streets, there was a breeze that wafted gently and I knew without a doubt the day would now be a hot one. I scuffed my boots in the dusty floor, taking my time to reach the tavern and enjoy the coolness of the early morning. I was half way there when I heard my name being called.

"Senka!" It was Vanora, I knew that voice anywhere. I stopped and smiled as I waited for her to catch up.

I noticed immediately how tired she looked, the dark circles under her eyes were the give away. It looked like she had been up for a while from the state of her already creased and crumpled dress.

"What have you been up to Van? The children haven't kept you up all night have they?"

She shook her head, "Eleven was restless but that's nothing unusual. No, it was Arthur and the knights that had me up."

I frowned, "Why?" We started walking towards the tavern.

"Oh something about the Picts. I'm not too sure really. I decided to stay up until Bors came home and when he didn't, I went to make sure he was alright and they all had some food and drink to keep them going."

"Must be serious then." I mused.

"I have a feeling it is, none of them looked particularly happy when I saw them and I haven't seen Arthur looking as stressed as he was in quite a while." She rounded off her sentence with a yawn.

"Vanora, have you slept at all?" She looked at me sheepishly.

"Right now, Senka, I don't have time. They are all still in the Table Room and knowing them they'll be in the a bit longer, so I'll need to make them some more refreshments and a breakfast. I have the children to look after and the tavern to clean and prepare for the day, if I get a spare moment I will have a nap but I doubt that will be any time soon."

"In that case, this is what we'll do. You and I shall make the knights something to eat and drink which I will take to them. You will go home and send the children to your mother's house and if she will not look after them I am sure Gilly won't mind the responsibility until I am finished. You will go to bed and I will get Elaine and the others to help me get the tavern ready to open at noon. Only once you are properly rested will you come back to the tavern, do I make myself clear? Good."

For the first time in my acquaintance with her, Vanora placidly obeyed my instructions and as we stood in the kitchen of the tavern putting together some sustenance for Bors and the others. Chatting amiably about this, that and the other, I could sense her desire to ask me how I was yet not wanting to push her boundaries. I was glad when she finally got round to it. The nosey Vanora I had become good friends with over the last few months was someone I felt on edge without; her reluctance to just come out and ask me how I was feeling was strangely unnerving, as if what had happened to me was unspeakably terrible.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Better than ever, could you pass me that knife?" She nodded and handed me the blade.

"Really?"

"Really."

"You know, you gave us all quite a scare the passed few days." She confessed. I frowned.

"Us?"

"Me, the girls, Arthur and the knights. Always asking after you they were, Galahad seemed rather...anxious? Which is not surprising really as he is rather sensitive."

"I would never have guessed," I replied dryly, Vanora flicked me with a towel.

"Behave you, I'll have none of that in my kitchen. Where was I, oh yes, Lady Guinevere popped by your quarters several times."

"She did?"

"Aye but she never got as far as knocking on the door poor lass, I saw her stand opposite your room and walk off moments later every time. I think she wanted to see how you were but run out of courage at the last minute; strange for someone so strong willed, and a warrior too. Then again she has had a hard time of it lately what with Arthur being so busy and not having many friends."

"I thought she would have had plenty." I said.

"She used to, I think, but things are different now. She is Arthur's Queen and Consort, many of her old friends find it hard to approach her like they used to. Especially seeing as they are Woad and Arthur is not only half Roman but spent many years of his life killing her people. They cannot forgive and forget as easily as hoped by Merlin, it has caused strain on her friendships no matter how hard she tries to fix them. Guinevere is only young, twenty I believe, with so much responsibility on her shoulders; she has no one to relate to or see passed her title. Because of this she has become rather subdued and lonely I'm afraid, it's completely knocked her confidence."

I nodded, taking in all Vanora had said. I hadn't met Guinevere properly before, just had fleeting glances on occasion which foolishly led me to believe her cold and indifferent. Perhaps it was in fact her loneliness that I had seen, but I would never have thought she would want to meet me, even if it was just out of sympathy.

"And she wasn't the only one who was at your door, Sir Tristan has apparently been seen there by my Bors as well as some of the girls."

I snorted, "Sir Tristan? Now _that_ I can't believe!"

"Why not? He seems rather taken by you, if he wasn't why did he escort you to your chamber that night?"

"Stop right there Van, I know you told him to come after me. Don't worry I'm not angry, though I had said I wanted to be alone, I know you only wanted to look out for me and you did make the right choice in the scout I suppose."

Vanora looked at me blankly.

"No I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"I didn't send Tristan after you, in fact I hadn't even noticed he had gone until I saw you two walk passed together." We stood in silence for several moments, staring at each other and I could tell from her expression that she was indeed telling the truth.

"How odd." I finally said, turning back to the food before me.

"_How odd_?! That is all you have to say? _How odd_!"

I sighed with frustration, and stopped what I was doing,"What else should I say then?"

"Well for a start you could ask yourself why?"

"What for? He was obviously just being a gentleman."

This time it was Vanora who snorted. "Tristan is the complete opposite of a gentleman and I can say that because I know him and care for him like an estranged brother. He beds whores without ceremony, hell I don't think he even knows how to flatter a woman or get one into bed without paying for it! No wonder Isolde left him!"

"Isolde?" I asked, puzzled.

"I won't go into that right now. What I am saying is, Tristan wasn't doing it because he is just _nice_, look at the options Senka."

"There's options?"

"Dear Gods," She muttered. "You had just been attacked, in your distress you went off alone in the dark where all manner of horrifying things could have happened to you. Tristan sees you leave and in his concern goes after you to make sure you are alright and to comfort you if needs be."

"And that to me spells out _gentleman_." I countered.

"Well if that is so, when Gail had a nearly similar experience, why did he just sit there and finish his ale like nothing had happened? Why didn't he go after _her_ too?"

"Vanora, you are reading far too much into all this," I insisted, "After all if he had feelings for me of more than a friendly nature (which is what I think you are trying to insinuate), surely he would have been more open about it?"

Vanora shook her head, "He's not the sort of man to wear his heart on his sleeve."

"Alright then, if Tristan _did_ have romantic thoughts about me then it would have been him that saved me from Duilius." I picked up a cup of water and took a sip.

Vanora flustered, "It was."

I spluttered, choking on the water I had partially swallowed. But what she had just said didn't mean anything. I think she could read that from my expression.

"You must be blind! Have you not noticed him watching you in the tavern? His eyes follow you wherever you go, like that bloody hawk of his. From what the girls say, he hasn't paid for a whore in five weeks and although he isn't a regular, they could always count on a few of his coins three or four times a month."

"That doesn't mean anything, it's all just circumstance."

"Pah! Circumstance my Aunt Fanny! Senka," Her voice lowered to a whisper, "Tristan _likes_ you."

"Of course he does Vanora," I replied patronisingly before breaking into laughter, "Honestly, you should stop telling your children fairy tales before they go to sleep- you're starting to believe them!"

"Start believing what?" We both turned to see Elaine and Angharad walking through the door.

"Oh nothing," Vanora smiled and went back to the fruit she was preparing. Elaine walked around the oak table in the center of the room eyeing the food stuffs on the surface.

"Is this for the knights?" She asked coyly.

"Yes Elaine," I bit back my chuckle, knowing full well what she would ask next.

"And Lancelot?"

She looked so hopeful, her huge blue eyes begging me to say yes. Elaine was certainly one of the prettiest girls who worked in the tavern with her pale skin, dark auburn curls and feminine figure. Three years my junior, she had been in love with Lancelot for years and never once gave up hope that he would change his womanising ways. Unfortunately I didn't have her faith in the dark knight. Time and time again I had come across her trying not to cry over something he had done or not done. According to Vanora, when Lancelot had been injured severely fighting the Saxons, Elaine rushed back to the fort to care for him. Lancelot was completely unaware that she was only seeing to him whilst he was recovering and so shattered her dreams when he did not proclaim his love for her once he was back on his feet. But it didn't take long for Elaine to be over that, dismissing it as a setback and nothing more. Of course she wasn't particularly fond of Guinevere as far as I knew. Rumours had spread through the women of the fort that he lusted after her most desperately and wanted no other; Elaine fervently denied it all but nonetheless bad mouthed Guinevere at any given opportunity. It is bad of me but I pitied Elaine, so caught up in her romantic hopes and delusions, she couldn't see the truth of the matter; giving the sweet girl a bitter streak and a lifetime of heartbreak.

"Think about it Elaine. The food is for the knights, and what is Lancelot? A knight." Angharad replied sarcastically. Elaine blushed deeply.

"Now, now you two, if you're going to be here then you could at least give us a hand." Vanora admonished.

"What do you need us to do? Take the food to the knights?" Elaine asked excitedly.

"Well if you really want..." I started. Elaine nodded frantically.

"Yes, yes of course, we'll do it straight away."

"...You could clean the tavern." Her face fell when I finished my sentence. I could see Elaine mentally slap herself for being too eager, now she had to do the one job I knew she hated deeply.

She sighed and dragged her friend out the door behind her, the red headed Angharad smirking in amusement.

"Now that was cruel." Vanora commented, giggling.

"You know you would do exactly the same!" I protested. "Well I'd better get this to the men before they die of hunger." I grinned, picking up the tray packed full with fruits and other foods that I hoped would bring a smile to their faces.

* * *

I knocked on the door, the tray balancing ominously on my other hand. The muffled command from Arthur to enter came moments later. Pushing the door open with my back I walked smoothly over to the table smiling politely. Arthur's curve of the table was swamped with maps and parchments that were spreading out onto the empty place's either side of him. They all look tired from their haggard expressions, slumped postures and crinkled clothing. Galahad in particular seemed eager to leave if his fidgeting was anything to go by. 

They all watched me as I put down the tray and took everything off of it.

"Senka?" I looked up to Arthur questioningly.

"Hmm?" I didn't stop getting everything ready for them to eat.

"How are you?" He seemed concerned.

"Right as rain, why do you ask?"

Arthur looked across to Lancelot who shared looks with Tristan and Gawain.

"After the other night..."

"Oh. I'm fine, fine and dandy!" I replied cheerfully, well I had been up until that point. Damn, I needed to meditate, I could feel the familiar lurch of my heart when I was reminded of something I wished to forget and would distract me until it faced me in my dreams.

"Are you sure you should be working?" Galahad asked.

"Sir Galahad if I did not work, what else would I do? I can't sit around wallowing in self pity. Now, I brought you a selection of foods that I hoped might tempt you, can't have you all wasting away now can we?" I joked, they took to it half heartedly. "I brought some fresh bread and honey, oh and figs, plums, pears and apples. Water for you to drink of course, can't forget that." I knew I was babbling so stopped and sighed, looking down to my apron before up at them all. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, that is fine Lady, thank you." Dagonet reassured me.

"Yes, thank you Senka." Arthur added.

Several more thank you's came from Gawain, Galahad and Lancelot, and a definite nod from Tristan, whom I noticed hadn't stopped staring at me (which is slightly off putting when your handling food and ceramics).

"Good stuff lass, just what we need!" Bors cheered.

"Well you can thank Vanora for that too."

"Where is that woman of mine?"

"Hopefully in bed where I sent her. She's been up all night making sure you lot had all you needed, poor thing needed to sleep. Her mother's got the children as far as I know, I'll more than likely be taking over later. Are you sure there is nothing else I can do?"

"That's mighty fine of yer Senka." Bors grunted appreciatively. I shrugged.

"So...?"

"That will be all thank you," Arthur said softly. Picking up my tray I curtsied as appropriate and headed for the door.

"Wait!" He called all of a sudden. I turned to find Arthur striding over towards me.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering...well...if it is possible would you be able to have a visit with Guinevere? She has been feeling rather lonely recently and in need of female companionship, something I obviously cannot give her. If you could spend some time with her, talking and such, it would be greatly appreciated."

I nodded, "I don't see why not. I'll just stop off at the tavern before I go."

"Thank you again." Arthur smiled, resting his hand on my shoulder for a moment. Smiling in return, I ducked out of the door and headed back to work. It was as I was walking back to the tavern that I realised something which seemed quite profound to me at the time, that had been my first ever visit to the Table Room and I hadn't even taken note of anything about it. I had heard from others that upon walking into the room, you were over taken with awe and wonder at the site of the infamous Round Table, so resplendent and finely crafted that it held an aura of power and honour. I had always thought that if I ever had the chance to enter and see what laid beyond the oak doors that guarded it, I would commit everything to memory so I would never forget the privilege I had had; oh well, I would just have to try and find a way in there again.

I didn't realise I had taken a different route back to the tavern until I heard the familiar sounds of the training grounds coming from the oak gates in the perimeter wall on my right. Ever since Arthur and Guinevere had married and united the country once again, the Woads had moved from their forest camps into more permanent settlements surrounding the wall and forts, Vindolanda especially. It became a regular occurrence to see Woad warriors accumulate on the town's training grounds, sparring and practising for the future. Britain had become more peaceful since the Romans had left but Saxons not killed in the battle of Badon Hill, still roamed the land as well as the remainder of troops sent over to claim land and get revenge for the death of Cerdic, a man famous and loved by the Saxons for the glory he had brought them in the past. Smaller battles still took place, although few and far between; during the three months I had been at Vindolanda, there had been two as well as five minor incidences where the knights were called upon to ride to areas without protection and stop the pillaging that the Saxons relied upon so heavily to survive.

The gates, smaller than those of the main entrance, opened out onto a rather large field to the side of the fort and surrounded by farming land. Diverting from my original path, I walked over to the entrance of the training grounds and stopped, leaning against one of the doors. There had to be around a dozen Woads using the area, some practising their archery but the majority working with swords. No doubt they were taking full advantage of the cooler early morning hours so they would not have to train when the day was at its hottest. The repetitive clang of steel on steel was occasionally interrupted by grunts and harsh instructions, it didn't take much for my mind to slip back to old times.

&&&&&&

"_Block him dammit!" Ajax bellowed. _

_Grimacing, I defended weakly, cursing the unbalanced position Evaric, my opponent had forced me into. He swiped at my head with the wooden practice sword which I ducked and spun underneath, coming up behind him and preparing to attack. Evaric grunted and turned on his feet, not expecting my counter attack into which I put all the strength I had left. He stumbled slightly as I brought down my sword from above, letting a cry of frustration and desperation leak from my lips. We had been at it for a good three hours at least, Ajax making us fight each other over and over until he was satisfied we would put on a good enough show for the crowds in the coming days. I barely jumped back in time before Evaric sword's rushed at my stomach, I managed to redirect the hit away from my body, slamming my shoulder into the larger man's gut which finally overbalanced him. Obviously humiliated that I had beaten him, Evaric looked up at me from the ground with undisguised distaste._

"_Enough." Ajax commanded from his seat underneath the awning not far from where we were. Eating the olive in his hand, he beckoned us over and spat out the stone of the olive._

_Evaric ignored the hand I offered and got up on his own rather stiffly. Now that we had stopped, I found my breathing laboured more than before and I was unable to get it under control. We had been in Mauritania for three weeks, training and preparing as we always did. The day had heated up considerably, my skin was more than just damp from sweat, the salty water ran in rivulets down my flesh soaking into the coarse material of my long tunic. My short hair stuck uncomfortably to the back of my neck causing it to itch; the linen I had bound around my palms to prevent the Rudius from slipping in my grip, chaffed and burned my skin. I was in dire need of a drink of water and could feel my severely cracked lips sting as I ran my tongue over them. My head spun and my body trembled, desperate to lie down and never get up again, what I wouldn't do for a cold bath. _

"_Good, I suppose. Neither of you were trying hard enough, that will change if you wish to live. I will not employ slackers, do you understand? Up your game or perish, and if you are lucky enough to live, take fear in the fact I will punish you more than adequately until I find some fool to buy you for more than you are worth. You are finished for today. Jesus Christ, if I had to watch another moment of you two acting like pathetic little Sarmatians; thinking they are bigger and better than they truly are, I think I'd drive a dagger through my heart. Where is the honour? The savagery? The power? You are Gladiators, act like it. "_

"_Yes Master." We mumbled in unison, bowing and walking back towards our cells. _

"_Oh, Radovan? I stopped and cringed before heading back to Ajax._

"_Yes Master?" I asked, hoping he was going to give me advice and nothing more. _

_Ajax eyed me hungrily, "I do wish you would tell me your real name, my little warrior princess." He stood and circled me, dragging a finger across my sweat slick skin, "Surely such a brutish name cannot be it?"_

"_It is the name I was given at birth Master." I struggled to hold back the bile rising in my throat. _

"_Than I shall give you a better one." He stood in front of me, eyes appraising my ever maturing figure. Suddenly he began to chuckle low in his throat. "Virginia, I can think of nothing more suitable." I knew he mocked me, I was no virgin- he had made sure of that. He wanted to gain a rise from me, I knew he liked it better when I lashed out at him and fought back. Ajax had always been one for blood. Such a name made a part of me want to tell him the truth, my real name, Senka, but I would not. I would never. I would rather die than hear the name my mother gave me even be whispered by the bastard; even if it meant my gravestone was not my own. _

_Ajax moved closer, crowding me until he fat body rubbed against mine and his breath tickled my ear. He pulled his head back slightly, observing me as he stroked my cheek, I pulled my head from his touch only to have him hold my jaw tightly in reply._

"_I have ordered a bath to be delivered to my chambers. Go there, bathe and wait for me."_

"_Yes Master." _

"_Good girl. What a shame it is that you are no true beauty, I could think of no better wife than if you were. But you are homely enough to share my bed, for that I must be thankful. And what a whore you are, so wild and unbreakable just like the fighter within you. Never have I owned a Gladiator who has as much potential as you, Virginia, if only you stopped thinking about your actions and only looked to the future; what a killer you would be. The greatest Gladiatrix to ever have existed in the Roman Empire, that could be you if only you gave in to all I offered. For I can offer you a lot more than what I have already. All you have to do is yield to me, give in." He finished the last bit in a whisper, his head moving down so his lips could suck at the salted skin of my shoulder. I shook under his touch as he continued to bite and suck at the flesh until a bruise formed and marked his touch. "Now go to my room."_

_I nodded, still shaking as I stumbled over my own feet and headed where he had directed. Just as I turned the corner I felt myself lifted off of the ground and slammed into the wall behind. I wasn't shocked to see Evaric sneering cruelly at me. _

"_I do not take kindly to being humiliated whore, you'd be advised to remember that. To make up for your obvious ignorance, I will visit you tonight. It is in your best interests to be awake, not that it matters, I will take you - willing or not." His lips crashed down heavily on my own, biting into the sore flesh and causing blood to trickle down my chin. Just as abruptly as his arrival, Evaric dropped me and walked off, leaving me to collapse on the floor unable to hold myself up. Resting my head against the stone, I blinked away the threatening tears._

"_I won't cry." I told myself, wiping at the blood on my face;_

"_Not again."_

&&&&&&

"Not again!"

I flinched, dropping the tray which had been hooked under my arm. Blinking rapidly, I refocused my vision to see an older Woad scolding a boy more than just several years younger than myself.

"Ahearn, do I have to keep repeating myself?! If you drop your arm like that you won't be able to defend yourself and when your opponent hits you, he will disarm you! By the Gods, boy, do you not pay attention?!" The boy's elder was clearly frustrated and ready to give up.

I chuckled despite the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I had been like that once and it had taken me many an hour of strenuous training to solve the problem. It was something that was caused by a lack of upper body strength, especially in the arms. The boy, Ahearn, was lucky. In a few years he would grow taller and stronger with maturity thus ending the fault. For me it was different, age and growth wouldn't change the weakness in my arms, I was a girl and not built for war with my small size and delicate bone structure. Instead I had to work harder than anyone else, Ajax believed that I could do it and so pushed me until breaking point- and sometimes I did break. I could feel moisture begin to settle on the back of my neck, the uneasy feeling in my stomach heightening to a whole new level. The sounds of the training ground became unbearable to my ears, and the only thing I knew was the need to get away, far away. Scooping down I fumbled for the tray, once it was tightly in my grasp I stood up and hastily jogged all the way back to the tavern; completely unaware of the dark eyes which had been watching me the entire time.


	4. Chapter 3: An Interlude with Guinevere

_Death Becomes You_ takes place after the defeat of the Saxons at Badon Hill, Arthur has now been King for about a year and also those knights who died in the film are alive.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters, situations or ideas pertaining to the 2004 King Arthur motion picture or the Arthurian Legends which may at some point have input and reference to the future plot of this story. This fan fiction is solely for the purpose of entertainment for both myself and others and I do not have any intention to make money from it; neither is it my intention to offend any one connected in any way to the film. The original characters and plot line come from my mind alone and therefore any similarities with other fictional works or otherwise (e.g. Names of real people, descriptions, locations etc.) are purely coincidental and are not meant to cause harm.

Please review.

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Chapter Three- An Interlude with Guinevere 

I smiled and sighed contentedly, the lush grass of the riverbank tickling my palms which hovered over the ground around me. The chirping of the birds, rushing of the fast flowing water and rustle of the light breeze in the tree tops high above my head created a peaceful rhythmic staccato that lulled me towards the lands of sleep.

"Senka?" My eyes snapped open at the sound of my name and I strained my head up to see who it was that had called it; I was met with a upside down and rather cautious looking Lady Guinevere. Oh God, I was supposed to visit her! Inwardly I admonished myself severely for forgetting and hoped she didn't realise I had.

"Yes, My Lady?"

She looked sheepishly down at me.

"May I sit with you a while?"

Pulling myself up I nodded and patted the ground next to me. "Of course, of course, please do." Guinevere smiled with obvious relief and thudded down in the vacant spot.

"I forget how beautiful it is here." She mused, studying the riverside sanctuary. We sat in silence, only the sounds of nature filling the slight awkwardness I know I was feeling.

"Are you alright?" She looked at me as if I had stung her.

"Y-yes."

"Hmm, forgive me but I don't think you are."

Guinevere looked even more weary than Vanora had that morning, worry was etched on her face even though she tried to hide it.

She sighed.

"No, you are right. I have been in counsel with my father and the elders as well as Arthur and the knights about a rather concerning issue for the better part of two days. I am rather tired but cannot sleep."

"This about the Picts?"

"How did you-"

"Vanora." I cut her off.

"Of course, I should have realised."

"So it _is_ the Picts then."

"Yes." She confirmed. "They do not except Arthur's leadership of Britain, they want him removed and their own leader put in charge."

"And I have the feeling there is a large possibility this could end in war?" I asked wincing.

"Yes."

"Who do they want in control? Anyone I've heard of?"

"A man called Mordred, he is the son of the Pict King and heir to his throne; it makes sense for him to be the claimant. He is young and a brave warrior with strong connections to the Woads... all Britons."

"How so?"

"He is betrothed to my sister Gwenevak." Guinevere didn't sound too happy when she told me that. Wait a minute...

"You have a sister?" I questioned incredulously. Talk about learning something new.

"She is older than me by five years, we have never gotten on to be honest. Unlike father and I, Gwen believes Britain should go back to the old ways of living, destroying all trace of Rome that remains- including the people and their faith. She doesn't believe in the unity of all Britons, nor the Christian values that have helped Britain grow and become strong. The Picts have the same ideology which created the alliance between her and them."

"Oh."

"What makes matters worse for us is the fact that the Picts have a pact with the Hibernians- the Irish. If war is to happen, they have an armed force waiting to cross the sea and invade us from the west. Arthur, we all, are in a lot of trouble. None of us will allow him to give up his leadership, Britain has thrived since he was crowned and if he stepped down we would be flung into chaos. But at the same time we do not have the strength to fend off an attack if war is declared." She sighed again, "He has petitioned for a meeting with the Picts to which they have agreed. Their ambassador will be arriving in a matter of days."

"Who is it?"

"My sister."

"Ah."

"Indeed. Oh! I am so scared about all of this, Senka! I don't know what to do, what to think. How am I supposed to act around her? She is my family but in truth I don't know her at all, I haven't seen her in four years! And here she is coming back into my life with the intentions of ruining everything I have worked so hard for, that I love!"

Guinevere buried her head in her palms and I was positive I heard her sniffling. Awkwardly I laid my hand on her back and patted it as soothingly as I could.

"_Please _don't cry," I begged (emotions had never been a strong point of mine), "I'm sure everything will be fine, just wait and see what happens. Don't worry yourself over something that's out of your control, when the time comes for you to react - whether it be because of Gwenevak's arrival or a war - you will be in a better frame of mind to do so if you have complete control of your faculties and an understanding of how the opposition is thinking." I hoped I made sense.

Guinevere looked up at me and smiled.

"You're right, Gods, look at what a weakling I'm being! Me, who's been to war! Everything will be fine, I just have to be strong and keep my eyes open just as you said." Phew, emotions diverted.

"Its alright to break down every now and then, it's what makes us human. You're weren't being weak, My Lady, so don't think that you were."

"Guinevere."

"Pardon?"

"Please call me Guinevere, I hate being called 'My Lady' or 'Your Highness' or whatever other sycophantic title they bestow upon me, I am not used to it nor worthy of it."

"Well they seem to think you are." I smiled, I wasn't expecting such a show of modesty from Guinevere that was for sure. Then again it wasn't as if I actually knew her.

"Then they are wrong." I don't think she meant for me to hear it but the hollow tone in her voice echoed in my mind cementing Vanora's confession of Guinevere's loneliness and unearthing my own memories of when my voice held much of the same empty grief that filled the young woman beside me.

"How is the construction of Camelot coming along?" I changed the subject.

"Progress is good. Father says it should be finished by next summer and we will be living there by the winter solstice."

"I never understood why your father and Arthur are having the castle built. What is wrong with living here? The fort is secure enough surely?"

"Vindolanda in itself is an ideal home for a War Lord, but it is not suitable for a King to rule a country from. The fort cannot deal with the large amount of people coming to and fro on a daily basis, Camelot has a much better seating near a larger town and has better access to all corners of Britain."

"What will happen to Vindolanda?"

I had a right to be nosey; this was my home we were talking about after all.

"Vindolanda will be under the control of a Governor of sorts, like all the other major forts and towns in Britain. The Governors will uphold Arthur's laws and see to it that no harm comes to the people as well as maintaining Christian justice."

I snorted.

"What?" Guinevere frowned.

"Forgive me, Guinevere, but I have seen the consequences of 'Christian' justice before and I did not like it one little bit."

She frowned harder.

But before she could question my statement a cough caught our attention; we turned to find Sir Tristan standing somewhat of a distance behind us.

"Good afternoon, Sir Tristan." Guinevere said politely, smiling with a nod.

Tristan nodded in return. "My Lady." He turned to look at me and repeated the physical gesture even if it was subtler. I smiled.

"Can we help you at all Sir?" Guinevere asked.

"Arthur requests your company, he sent me to find you."

"Oh," Her smile brightened. "I should go to him, where is he?"

"His library."

"Thank you." Guinevere twisted back to me. "Thank you for talking with me, Senka. Perhaps you wouldn't mind if we did this again soon?" She looked so hopeful I couldn't refuse.

"Of course."

She grinned and squeezed my hand before rising from her position next to me and disappearing off down the path that led back to the fort. I sighed and looked out across the river. That had gone better than I expected, and I was infinitely pleased she had not spoken of my incident with Duilius.

The feeling of being watched caused me to once again shift in my position and look to where Guinevere had gone, and I couldn't help but be surprised to see Tristan standing there silently and stoically. Confused, I got up.

"Is there something I can help you with, Sir Tristan?"

The knight stared at me, his dark eyes never decreasing in their intensity. Even behind that shaggy curtain of hair, his eyes lost none of the power they held. He shifted slightly in his stance.

"I wish to inquire after your health."

"My health is fine, thank you."

"You are certain?" He obviously wasn't convinced.

"Most assuredly." I wasn't going to back down and I knew he could see it. After all, the scout sees everything.

"Then perhaps you will allow me to walk you back to the fort."

I nodded and we walked in silence for a good while, but I couldn't help my curiosity.

"Why did you not escort Guinevere back? I am sure she is a lot more important than I am."

"Lady Guinevere can take care of herself, she is a warrior after all." Tristan looked ahead as he answered.

"But she is royalty." I argued.

"And a Woad all the same."

He was right I suppose, Guinevere knew how to look after herself better than most. I smirked.

"Are you saying I am incapable of protecting myself Sir?" I asked coyly, it was time to see whether Vanora's insane belief about Tristan were in anyway true.

Still Tristan did not look at me, but I was sure I heard him grunt.

"I have yet to see you do so."

That hurt. Even if it was not his intention, it still cut to the core. I bowed my head, Tristan sighed nearly inaudibly but said nothing else. We walked once again in silence, neither of us wanting to start up a conversation. We reached the fort not long after.

"Have a pleasant day, My Lady." Tristan said gruffly as soon as we were through the gates, before striding off away from where I stood without a backward glance.

What a pleasant fellow.

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I am so sorry for the disappearance, alongside the fact my mum is currently having treatment for cancer which means I have to take care of mum and the farm whilst my dad works, my computer wiped my hard drive and I lost the entire story and all my research notes and plans; so I've had to write it up all over again whilst trying to remember what it was I actually wrote. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it means so much to me that you take time out to do so. Oh and I'm also sorry about how short this chapter is, I don't have time to add anymore today. 

Also thank you to Tristan's Lady Meg for all her help as my Beta.

Questions & Comments

The following are questions and comments I have received in reviews and private messages. I am more than happy to answer any questions you might have for me, so please feel free to ask me anything, any time.

**If she was a gladiator back in Rome, then why couldn't she fight the soldier off? And don't say, she didn't want to reveal her training or something, because if she was being attacked it would only make sense for her to try and protect herself. If she was able to survive for so long in the arena, then why can't she defend herself?**

It is an understandable question which I am glad you have asked. Throughout the years Senka spent at first as a slave and then a Gladiatrix, she would have been subjected to regular beatings and rapes for whatever reason her master had- pleasure, punishment etc. For Senka, it would have been a normal occurrence, that although she hated and feared, she had no control over. When the soldier Duilius attacked her as he did, to Senka it would have been just the same as back during her service; and because of this she would react as she learned to, as to not make the situation worse. She didn't fight back initially because she pretty much forgot where she was and that she could make him stop as he had no right to touch her without her permission- I like to think that she is in fact suffering from a form of Stockholm Syndrome, it has been beaten into her that all she is good for is killing and being abused by men, and not matter how she tries to override this belief it is still there lurking at the back of her mind. When Duilius attacked her, it reopened old emotional and psychological wounds that had only ever been present in her nightmares since her service ended causing her to freeze up from the shock and terror she was feeling. Senka is a very skilled sword and knife fighter, and more than able to defend herself, obviously. The reason she struggled to do so once she realised she didn't have to let him do anything to her, can be put down to the fact that for over a year she hasn't done any sort of training and Duilius' superior height, weight, strength and fitness compared to Senka's five foot four inch frame and the fact that she has become weaker since her time as a Gladiatrix and loss of athletic condition more than gives him the upper hand in subduing her.

I hope this makes sense, it does to me but I know what I'm going on about which isn't much help to you guys. If I have just confused you further, let me know and I'll have another go lol : )

**Senka being a Gladiatrix doesn't make sense. The bloodsports were banned in Rome along time before when your story is set. Also, Gladiatrix fights were not only rare but took place against other women and dwarves only, and were banned in 200 AD. **

To an extent, the comment above is completely true. Roman bloodsports, in this instance Gladiator fights, were banned in 325 AD by Emperor Constantine I. But the edict banning Gladiator fights was not permanent seeing as they continued uncontested three years later. In 367 AD Christians were banned from being sentenced to the arena, and after the official conversion to Christianity in 393 AD, the emperor Theodosius banned all heathen festivals- but Gladiator shows continued. But the programmes were very limited due to finance and declining spectator numbers after the majority of people turned to Christianity. Many historians feel that Gladiator fights came to an end by 440 AD because they were not mentioned in the pamphlets attacking public shows created and spread by Bishop Salvianus; and it is only logical that they would have been stated if they still occurred. In my opinion, I feel that even if Gladiatorial games had ended by 440 AD, there is still the possibility that they could of continued on in the provinces in the south of the Empire as a way of making money and attracting slave traders to come to the towns, followed by others who had other items to sell and those who came to buy. The games may not have taken place in Rome, but Rome and it's provinces weren't exactly the same. I don't really think they would have cared too much if the shows had been banned because it wasn't like Rome would hunt down and search out every match taking place, seeing as the Huns were beginning to knock at their door as well as other enemy forces.

Emperor Severus did in fact ban female Gladiators in 200 AD, but their rarity cannot be proven, as stated in Steven Murray's _Female Gladiators of the Ancient Roman World_: "To summarize, the written record of the ancients attests to the existence of female gladiators. However, that record is quite sparse. This scarcity of written references "has led some scholars to consider female gladiators a novelty act." However, that many of the references are made "casually" throughout the ancient writings suggests that female gladiators were "more widespread than direct evidence might otherwise indicate" (Zoll, 2002, p. 27)."

Once again, in my personal opinion, I feel that Gladiatrices could have still been found in the provinces but may not have been the most regular occurrence even two hundred years after they were banned. Which could be a reason as to why Senka fought against men often- because Gladiatices were hard to come by on a daily basis.

I hope my answers have cleared up any problems. I did state in my first author's note that my story would be historically inaccurate in places because of the nature of my time line; but if I haven't explained the inaccuracies clearly enough throughout the story then I do apologise and I'll work harder to do so. Thank you.


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